


Jeeves and the Mares of the Night

by Johnlockedness



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M, Slash, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockedness/pseuds/Johnlockedness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeeves suffers from nightmares regarding his service during the Great War. Bertie is there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Mares of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This bunny just popped into my head after I've read so many beautiful both heartwarming and heartbreaking J/W stories.  
> Not beta-ed, so any mistakes are on my part. Enjoy :)

Once in a blue moon Jeeves has these dreams, don’t you know. And it ain’t the sort of dreams that leave him all hard and moaning my name, mind. No, these dreams are of a different sort, one of which I’m all too lucky not to experience. Jeeves served as a Regimental Sergeant Major during the Great War. He spent much of the war stationed in many different trenches, where he served as a sniper. He has seen and done things which are unimaginable to me. Though, I wasn’t born yesterday, I know a fair bit of what happened during the trench war and hearing tales make my bones go chill, let alone live through and especially with the thing. He doesn’t speak much of these events, he has every reason, and I certainly won’t push him on the subject. And since my man is a stoic person he doesn’t express his emotions freely at any rate, well not all of them, he does so in the bedroom and whenever he has an armful of Bertram W. Wooster. You get the point, he doesn’t show his emotions freely, restrained chap that he is.

That is, until he’s asleep. I don’t know the exact contents of these dreams of his, but I know whenever he’s having one of those dreams that bring back memories of the Great War. For some peculiar reason, Lord knows why, he isn’t able to be in command of his emotions while he’s having the forty winks, so to speak, and it may take several minutes before he is fully awake and conscious.

~~*~~

In the afterwhatsit of our lovemaking that specific evening Jeeves had laid upon his back and I had my arms wrapped across his chest, my shoulder under the crook of his left arm and my head nestled upon his shoulder. We kissed and spoke words of love before we finally drifted off to sleep. During the night we had shifted so that it was I who was on my back and Jeeves had positioned himself inside the crook of my arm in a feudalthingummy position.

I woke up by the sound of him moaning, and I noted his exhalation coming out in short rasping breaths.

“Jeeves?” I whispered. “Are you in pain?”

When he didn’t react and flung an arm in my direction instead, I shifted away from him. I glanced at the clock upon my bedside table, but it was still too dark to tell the time. I figured by the quality of light, if there was any, that it was still somewhere in the middle of the night. I looked back at Jeeves and that was when he trashed and whimpered, much like a trout on dry land desperate for a breath, the trashing about I mean. He almost send me off the bed, when he flew his right arm in my direction once again. I sighed, for I figured that my next move was going to take all of my strength. I sat up upon my elbows and shifted so that I could try to grab his arms to calm him down. I knew from past experience that this would only make it worse, but then I also knew that it made him wake up and for the dream to cease away, eventually.

With all my might I tried to gather my man into my arms, while whispering words of love and devotion into his ear. His body trembled and his legs kicked, he shouted wordless sounds of despair into the dark room. I knew he could easily buck me off, if he had set his mind to it. But I felt him relax after holding him for several minutes. A sheen of sweet covered his backside and he kept moaning and groaning, shaking his head as if he were in a desperate situation.

“No, no! Don’t!” He suddenly bellowed, and I’m not ashamed to say that he startled me. It took me a few seconds to recover this sudden outburst, but in response I only held him closer and tighter. I could only imagine what he might have gone through during those horrible years in no man’s land. Inwardly I wept, but I had to be strong for him, he needed me to be strong. He must have seen so much death, pain and humiliation. I knew he had the visible scars, which covered his lower legs and feet, they weren’t as worse as one might imagine from someone who spent so much time in the trenches, but they were there. Though they were nothing compared to the psyco… psycholgol? Ah, nothing compared to the mental damage combat must have caused upon my man’s mind.

“I’ve got you Reg, you’re safe now. I’m here, Bertie is here and I’m not going to leave you, never.” Was what I murmured over and over again into his ear. We lay spooned together, you know as two spoons might be all snug in a kitchen drawer, holding his arms tightly in my own and wrapping them across his chest.

“Wake up my love, I’m here, you’re safe.” I told him again and again.

I felt him stirring against me, his breath caught in his throat and it took him mere seconds to realize where he was, who he was and who I was. I relaxed my grip upon his wrists but still held him firmly against me. His body was trembling and I pressed my chest onto his back and entwined my legs with his own.

He didn’t speak, he never did, but I knew he found this reassuring. I moved my left hand to his chest and covered his heart with my palm, feeling the beating reduce and calm down. I kissed his neck and ear and whispered words of love, devotion and comfort into the shell. He shivered and clung to my arms, much as a newborn would cling to his mother, as if afraid to loose me.

“I love you.” I said while nuzzling his ear.

He shivered. “Bertram…” His voice was hoarse and a wee bit panic-struck, if the slight tremble was any indication.

“Hush my dear, I love you, I’ll always be here. Try to go back to sleep Reg, rest. I’ll watch over you.” I told him.

He did, and I could feel his body settle down into my arms as I held him. His breathing took a familiar rhythm that told me he had fallen back into a deep slumber. For more than a few minutes I took the liberty to look at my man, my eyes had became quite accustomed to the dark by that time, and I could see his form rising and falling with his breaths. Satisfied that he had settled down properly I snuggled close, breathing in his extraordinary scent and in just moments I had drifted off to the Land of Nod as well.

~~*~~

Jeeves never speaks of his dreams, not even the morning after I’ve shushed him back into a undisturbed sleep. But the look in his eyes that he gives me when he kisses me awake tells me enough. He is most grateful, the love and trust I find there overwhelms me. That one look tells me all I need to know.


End file.
